trip logs / gnuovla


Trip Log 2017-03-23 h09

I am presently in a hospital room, but not the waiting room for this floor, as this room has an oversize loveseat instead of the second bed that characterizes most of the rooms on this floor.  The seat is slate gray, its velvet covering worn rough no doubt by the fidgeting of anxious relatives over the years.  Actually it's not a loveseat at all, but a fullsize sofa, with extra wide cushions; I can see the black metal fold-out bed mechanism peeking out from one of them next to me. 

The single hospital bed is no longer, having been wheeled out moments before by an orderly, the combined smooth hulk of man and machine moving silently and swiftly past the red lacquer door.  Away, away, I hear in my mind.  The waist-height baseboard around the room and the doors of the closet, of the same color and consistency as the door, remind me of the bi-weekly fried-rice runs I enjoyed back in the Solana Beach days.  How I would swagger into the small restaurant slightly south of La Jolla, wide pipez jeans swishing, conspicuously shrug off the creaking leather jacket and bug-smeared motorcycle helmet, and “humbly” place the order!  What did I know of humility then? 

Is being ridiculous and knowing it the same as being humble? 


Copyright (C) 2017 Thien-Thi Nguyen